Healing Magic
by Tiquismiquis
Summary: Sick Lon'qu, helpless Lissa, and extremely unhelpful baby Owain.


_Author's Note: For a Tumblr prompter asking for Lissa/Lon'qu with a sick Lon'qu and an extremely unhelpful baby Owain. Who can say no to baby Owain?_

* * *

"You can't just use a staff?" Lon'qu mumbled.

"If only," said Lissa as she put a wet cloth on his forehead. "But it's never been that simple."

They'd been married three years and known each other for nearly five, but this was the only time she'd seen him sick. It was some miserable flu too: high fever, aches, hoarse throat. He couldn't have gotten out of bed if he tried. And after taking an arrow for her (always her prime example of Lon'qu's devotion), Lissa would have been happy to stay at his bedside all day and tend to him. But…

There was a sharp tug on her skirt and a loud gurgle. When she ignored it to feed Lon'qu a sip of water, the gurgle turned into a cry.

"Owain," she said with a sigh. "We can't play right now. Father is sick and—wait."

She turned to look down at him, and then at his crib in the corner, which Lon'qu had carved while she was pregnant.

Where she had definitely placed Owain.

She looked down at him again, confused. "How did you get out of there? And crawl over here without me hearing? Everything has to be an adventure with you, I guess."

He wailed again, so she scooped him up and carried him into the kitchen for honey.

"This will help Father's throat," she told him as she fed him a little drop from her finger. "See?"

Owain grinned and kicked his legs, but she shook his head and brought the jar and a spoon back into the bedroom. "No more sugar for you, kid."

It was a feat to get the jar open, dip the spoon in, and bring it to Lon'qu's lips without spilling, all while carrying a squirming baby in one arm, but Lissa had learned in the past few months that being a mother granted one magic powers. Her impressive deed was ignored when her husband turned his head with a grimace.

"Too sweet."

"It will help!" she urged. Obviously the fever was getting to him, if he couldn't think past that. She had to fight lunacy with lunacy, and cajoled, "You know where honey comes from, right? Bees! And you love bees! So eat their honey. It will make them very happy."

He frowned but let her feed it to him. Lissa rolled her eyes. Owain cried out and reached for the spoon, but she pulled it away from him.

"No way are you getting your father's germs! You won't like that, I promise. And taking care of one sick person is enough."

She put him down to go wash the spoon. By the time she returned, Owain had managed to crawl to her dresser, open it with inhuman baby-strength, and start tossing out all her clothes.

"I just folded those!" she sighed. "Here, play with your toys."

She put his favourite in front of him—a little wooden sword fighter, also carved by his father—and sat on the edge of the bed to rub Lon'qu's chest. He moaned a little, like it was the nicest thing he'd ever felt.

"You are the biggest baby when you're sick," she said. "It's kind of funny."

"No it's not," he said pathetically. "I feel awful and your touch is nice."

Well, that was gratifying to hear, after their history. She leaned forward to kiss his face but then something sharp struck her hard in the back.

"Ow!"

She stood up and whirled. Owain was giggling. He'd thrown the toy at her.

"I take it back," she said as she lowered him into his crib again, which only prompted more crying. "Father's not a baby. You're enough baby for two."

The gods then decided they were in an ironic mood. As the day passed, Owain got fussier and fussier, and by that evening he was flushed and most definitely sick with whatever Lon'qu had. Lissa growled in frustration as she went to open the window. The draft would feel nice for both her feverish boys, but she was about to freeze. And she'd be up all night, she could already tell.

But worse—so much worse—was that with all her healing knowledge, there was still so little that she could do for them. What were honey and rubs and open windows, in the scheme of things? When Lon'qu had that arrow in his shoulder, when blood soaked through the thick sleeve of his coat, she had yanked it right out and sealed the wound with her staff like nothing had ever happened. The pain was gone in an instant. It was so frustrating to have that power taken from her, after all she'd done to earn it.

It was a long night. She spent most of it rocking Owain in her arms, but had to set him down when he threw up all over her shoulder, and by the time she'd changed into her clean nightgown his crying had woken Lon'qu.

"Don't you puke, too," she ordered as the Proud Feroxi Champion buried his face under the pillow.

An hour or so after dawn, Owain had finally cried himself to sleep. Lissa put him back in his crib for good and tiptoed into bed. She was asleep before she could even wrap herself in all the blankets Lon'qu had thrown off.

She woke to his touch, firm but gentle, sliding up her side. The sunlight was bright when she cracked her eyes open: maybe noon, maybe mid-afternoon.

"Feeling better?" she mumbled.

"Somewhat. I can stand up today. Were you telling me something about bees, yesterday?"

She groaned as his hand ran up her stomach and over her breast. He was surely just being affectionate, appreciating every inch of the woman who had been at his side, but just in case he had any ideas…

"I am so not in the mood, if that's what you're wondering," she grouched as she rolled away.

"You are clearly in some sort of mood." He sounded tired but amused. She smiled a little to hear the smile in his voice. "A bad one."

"This bad: you'll never touch my chest again."

On the other side of the room, Owain whined for breakfast, and she called,

"Same goes for you."

Lon'qu chuckled and ran his fingers through her hair. It was so nice that her eyes closed again.

"We'd not ask anything of you today, Lissa. I think we can take care of ourselves. It is your turn to stay in bed."

"Are you sure?"

"Very sure. We do not want you to get sick next."

"Then I'm going back to sleep. But wake me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all?"

"Goodnight, Lissa," was his noncommittal answer—oddly funny in the bright daylight. He kissed her temple and she drifted off.


End file.
